


Brooklyn Sour

by CarburetorCastiel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engaged SteveBucky, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mind the Trigger Warnings Please, Neither of those abuses between pairing, One Shot, Stucky - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, implied/referenced minor character death (of a child)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarburetorCastiel/pseuds/CarburetorCastiel
Summary: (Mind the Trigger Warnings.)If there was anything in this world for Bucky to be grateful for, it was that Steve Rogers found him. And that Steve wasn't afraid to call Bucky a dumbass. Sometimes he needed somebody to get real with him for a second and prove that he wasn't the unsalvagable, broken man that his brain wanted him to think he was. He was worth it. Steve was worth it. And this love between them was definitely worth it."Healing isn’t a competition. There’s no deadline, Baby.”Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019. Artist: DalnimMoonlight





	Brooklyn Sour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/gifts), [babydollbucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydollbucky/gifts), [ellebeesknees (umetnica)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umetnica/gifts).



> TRIGGER WARNING LIST:  
> \- Attempted suicide/suicidal ideation  
> \- Mental health/illness topics  
> \- Rape/sexual assault (past, discussed)  
> \- Childhood domestic violence (past, discussed)  
> \- Death of a child (past, discussed - younger sibling)  
> \- Death of a parent (past, discussed - mother)
> 
> Additional disclaimer in the end notes.
> 
> \---
> 
> (Notice: The pictures are smaller to help the flow on mobile reading. Please click the links below to see the art and banner better.)
> 
> Art Link: [Art by DalnimMoonlight](https://66.media.tumblr.com/33cc9a8b7cf5921ee5f02a0610fce452/tumblr_psab4p5hZO1snayoeo1_640.png)
> 
> Banner Link: [Banner by ElleBeesKnees](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f34dde1c4ef9acd6f8e9e7e92b2e169a/tumblr_psab4p5hZO1snayoeo2_1280.jpg)
> 
> Find me on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/king_wintershield/), [Tumblr](https://friend-lover-janitor.tumblr.com/), and [DeviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/kingwintershield). (Open for Steve/Bucky or Stiles/Derek RolePlays, just message me.)
> 
> The artist DalnimMoonlight has no social media or websites to link to at this time.
> 
> My beta-reader was BabyDollBucky. She is such a wonderful friend and writer and has helped me fix a lot of nonsense in fics. Find her on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydollbucky) and [Tumblr](https://babydollbucky.tumblr.com/).
> 
> \---
> 
> This is dedicated to DalnimMoonlight for being a great artist to work with and being patient as I figured out how to start it and get it rounded out. You are very encouraging and kind and helpful. I hope that you like this final product. 
> 
> Also a shout-out to [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves), an artist, author, and RBB mod who is literally so kind and helpful and patient. I really appreciate everything you do and how much you have helped me during this CapRBB and last year's as well. You're an angel and a blessing.
> 
> And to [ellebeesknees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umetnica/pseuds/ellebeesknees) (AO3), AKA [lenadraws](https://lenadraws.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) for making the banner art.

****

Banner by EllesBeesKnees

\---

 

If there was anything in this world for Bucky to be grateful for, it was that Steve Rogers found him.  

Steve came home from work as he usually did at this time. He slipped his jacket off and dumped it on the counter before kicking off his shoes on the mat. “Buck?” he hollered, expecting his fiancé would be around. “Are you taking a shower, Babe?” He followed the sound of running water to the bathroom. Bucky was in the bathtub, slumped over on the side rail, hair falling in his face, unconscious. 

“Fuck,” Steve yelped quickly as he surged forward towards him, panic settling into his chest like a poison. The water was about halfway up the tub walls and it was running cold. Bucky clutched onto a partially consumed bottle of alcohol. And his arms and legs were covered in goosebumps. 

Steve uncorked the drain, grabbed the alcohol from Bucky’s hands, and tried to shake him awake again. “Bucky, wake up. Now. Wake up!”  

When that failed, Steve knew that Bucky wasn’t simply passed out drunk in the tub. Steve had been through this before. With his mother – under different circumstances. He didn’t have to guess what was wrong with Bucky. Steve pushed his body forward and slipped his fingers into his mouth. “I’m sorry for this,” he whispered in apology and then made him throw up. Steve had good timing in coming home, it seemed, because several nearly intact, undissolved pill capsules came up as Bucky sputtered back to consciousness.  

Bucky gasped and coughed, clinging to the arm that Steve held tightly over his chest. He shook with cold from the frigid water. His eyes were blurry and his head was throbbing in one of the worst headaches he had ever had. It took him a good few moments to register that Steve was actually here and holding him. 

“God, fuck, Bucky...” Steve gasped too. But he didn’t say anything else yet. He knew Bucky was disoriented and uncomfortable. Throwing questions at him right now wouldn’t yield many results. He just cleaned him up as quickly but gently as he could. He tried to get him warm again with splashes of hot water as he filled the tub back up. 

Bucky mumbled something incoherent and barely locked eyes with Steve for a few moments before letting his head fall back to rest on the wall. He was exhausted.  

\-- 

 

They met at a bar. That’s where he first found him. 

It went almost like a movie. Bucky was working at a little hole-in-the-wall pub. Steve was a semi-regular who always ordered the same thing – Tequila Sunrise.  

It struck Bucky as odd at first. Because he liked to see if he could guess what people might order and he had Steve tagged as a whiskey man the moment he laid eyes on him. He figured either a Rob Roy or Old Fashioned would do him. But once Steve had ventured into the bar three or four times and got the same thing, Bucky vowed to stop using people’s appearances as criteria for what cocktails they might want. 

And it didn’t take too long before they were talking casually whenever Steve was there. They chatted about what Steve wanted to do for a living or his art or they argued about baseball – Steve for the Yankees and Bucky for the Mets. It could occasionally get heated, but at least they could agree that neither of them liked the Phillies. 

They moved in together fast. Fast, only because they had been dating for around four months when they decided to make that step. They found a place in Park Slope that wasn’t that far from the bar. Steve managed to get a new job at an accounting firm near them. That was working out for them just fine for a long time until Bucky was fired.  

The reasons cited were quite strange. A new owner had taken over and spent a few weeks running the place before booting Bucky for ‘concerning erratic behavior and hostility towards others.’ None of the rest of the staff could figure out how the boss came to that conclusion. Of all of them, Bucky was the calmest – nice to customers even when they were causing problems, always willing to fill in shifts for them without complaining. He was also the only one who didn’t take smoke breaks or waste time texting. It made no sense. 

It took another two months before Bucky finally told Steve what he guessed was the actual reason that he was terminated.  

Bucky had to explain that the new boss kept touching him. Touching his hair and his chest and his arms. He was asked to stay late after close several times under the guise that the bar needed to be cleaned more thoroughly. But it always resulted in some sort of sexual solicitation that Bucky turned down in no uncertain terms.  

He assumed that the last straw was when he had to shove his own boss off of him, flailing limbs crashing into a bar stool. The stool broke underneath his weight along with a few glasses that fell from the counter. To add insult to injury, Bucky had to pull shards of glass from his hands while he tromped his way back to the apartment. 

The whole plight left Bucky sullen and pensive in a way that Steve couldn’t always make better with soft words and loving touches. This was a side of his boyfriend he had never experienced before. His happy-go-lucky, charming, magnetic man had retreated into himself. And all Steve could do was wrap his arms around him, promise him all his love, and hope that tomorrow was a better day for them both.  

“You know how much I love you?” Steve asked one night. Bucky had just been crying over the phone with his sister about how nothing ever felt right anymore. Everything in his life had some heaviness attached. Even his relationship with Steve. He felt like he was not good enough for him and Steve deserved someone so much more than Bucky could be. And Steve had overheard. 

“Yeah. I love you too,” Bucky said nonchalantly, drinking a rum and coke and flipping through movie options for something to watch. He hadn’t really told Steve everything yet. There were things from his life he just didn’t want to share. And Steve always seemed to understand and respect that about him. Bucky wanted some time before he felt like he could open up about all of it. 

But Steve was also allowed to worry – which he did a lot of in those days. 

\-- 

 

“So...” Steve started, brushing his fingers gently through Bucky’s slightly damp hair. “Tried to kill yourself?” He was direct, matter-of-fact. He knew that’s what this was. He didn’t need to wonder about Bucky’s end goal here.  

“Yeah.” Bucky looked down in as submissive and apologetic a move as he could at the moment. Steve wasn’t really much of a shouter during conflict, but Bucky sort of figured this would be an exception. How could Steve not be angry with him for this? 

Steve just nodded slowly, hand still tight in Bucky’s. He had just about a million thoughts in his head, a million worries, a million questions, a million emotions. But he pushed all that aside to first and foremost make sure Bucky was going to physically be okay. “Well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t take enough pills, Babe...” he said plainly and looked down at the pill container and the alcohol he took from him. “And you didn’t drink much either.”  

“Cool, so, you’re explaining to me how I botched this?” Bucky asked, suddenly very annoyed - both because Steve wasn’t lashing out at him about this and because Steve was making him sound like a total idiot for not doing this right.  

“No. That’s not what I’m doing,” Steve answered gently. “Just seen worse is all.” He stood up and let go of Bucky’s hand. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed the bottle of rum and strode out of the bathroom. Returning with a cup of water and his tablet, he sat back down. “Drink this. Slowly, though.” 

Bucky took the water from Steve and blinked in confusion a few times. “You don’t seem mad at me,” he said. “What do you mean you’ve seen worse?” Bucky didn’t feel as horrible right now as he thought he would have. He was relieved, yeah. He had only been sort of sure of what he was doing. Now that he saw Steve again, he realized that he should have listened to the part of him that had doubts. But he was mostly thrown off by Steve’s reaction and was more curious about what his fiancé was thinking in this moment. 

Not responding to him yet, Steve flitted through a google search about the pills that Bucky took, gathering some research. Yes, he was at least a little mad. But that was so outweighed by concern that his frustration and confusion could wait until later. “Well,” he huffed out a sigh and leaned back against the wall. “Looks like you didn’t actually take something that was dangerous enough to kill you. You would have been just passed out for a few hours. Then been really sick for several days - massive headache, fatigue, nausea, all that.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. So, he did botch it after all. “Fuck. What a moron. It was just all I could find that I knew you didn’t need. I figured anything would work.” 

Steve chuckled, actually  _chuckled_ , and looked back to Bucky with a dopey grin. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re a moron.” He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and brushed his thumb over his cheek. “I love you. You’re my moron, okay?” 

They stayed put like that for a while. Steve gave Bucky plenty of time to calm down and get his thoughts together. As much as Steve wanted to ask what he was thinking, he knew his job currently was to make Bucky feel safe and loved and not like he was going to be attacked for trying to do this. Steve had made that mistake before. 

To his credit, he was much younger and it was his mother and he felt like it was entirely his fault. Her plan was for the neighbors to find her while Steve was at a weekend camp retreat with her church’s youth group. But Steve had no intention of going. He gave some sort of lie and came back home. He thought she would be at her sister’s house like she said she was.  

When he came in, Sarah was unresponsive. She was laying on the couch with the TV playing an inane sixties comedy movie too loudly. And the moment she was awake at the hospital, Steve spit questions and harsh words of anger and disbelief. Sarah kept saying that Steve wouldn’t understand, he couldn’t understand – not knowing that her son wondered about his own longevity and what was his compelling purpose to even be here anymore.  

This time, with Bucky, with his fiancé, he was waiting. He didn’t want a replay of those long weeks when he and his mother refused to talk to each other. Steve only had Bucky now. He couldn’t quite go a few hours without talking to him, let alone almost a month. 

\-- 

 

At Sarah’s funeral, Steve sat in the front row of church pews with two other people. One was his girlfriend at the time. She held his hand and occasionally brushed her fingers through his hair. The other was his father who had showed up without permission. He sat at the very end of the pew, as far away from Steve as he could be while still being in the family’s section. 

Steve didn’t listen to the eulogy that the pastor was giving. For one, he didn’t think that anyone knew his mother well enough to be able to talk about her so intimately. It felt forced and disingenuous.  

Instead, he stared down at a spindly little spider making a delicate web between two red, carpeted stairs. He didn’t ask himself how the spider got there. Or if it really believed it was going to survive in a church. There were plenty more bugs outside. Could it not get its way back out? It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He didn’t ask.  

Because he had other things on his mind. Because he hadn’t been there this time. He hadn’t arrived home to find his mom passed out on the couch like when he was younger. He hadn’t called the ambulance to come save her.  

He had received a call instead. It was a hospital nurse. Or someone at the hospital, at least. Turns out, sickness didn’t wait for anyone to be ready. And from diagnosis to death... She only lasted two months. And Steve was half-way across the country on vacation with his girlfriend.  

Steve hadn’t gotten to be there for her like he promised he would be. 

His last bit of family was gone. His father was an ulcer in their home since he was a kid – he didn’t count. His little brother died in a freak accident when he was only four years old. Steve had been nine. He still thought his dad had done something on purpose. But he couldn’t prove it. 

And here he was shaking hands with a stream of people he didn’t even know. Standing up by the casket. Not hearing their kinds word about Sarah. Not hearing anything. Not thinking anything. Not even really existing... if that was possible.  

\-- 

 

“I was only fourteen. I mean, I didn’t even know who to tell or if I even could tell anyone. You know?” Bucky asked, tears on his cheeks and eyes wild with the stress of having to recount this out loud. 

Steve wiped his tears away as carefully as he could. “I know, Baby. I understand. I know you must have been scared. And confused.” 

“And angry,” Bucky added, wiping his nose on his shower towel. “Because no one tells you what to do after you get away. Everyone really loves to tell you what you should have done to prevent it. Or what you should be feeling about it now. What you did wrong. What they would have done. Or tell you statistics about rape and abuse like you shouldn’t get too worked up because you’re not special, it happens to so many people. You know, instead of just  _talking to me_ . Talk to  _me -_ in the moment. Talk  _about_ me.” 

Bucky was shaking again. Steve tugged him closer and wrapped another towel around him, hoping it would help. They hadn’t gotten much further than the bathroom floor before Bucky wanted to sit down again, his body very fatigued. “Breathe, Bucky. Breathe and talk,” Steve encouraged in a light whisper. He wanted him to try to calm his breathing down at least. But he didn’t want to break the stream of consciousness that Bucky was on. This was clearly an important flow and Bucky needed to get all these words out. And Steve was listening. He was here. 

“Throwing statistics at a teenager who thought he was about to be killed and just went through hell is really fucking stupid. Doing that to anyone is really stupid! No one wants to just feel like another number, another victim, another pile of stats for people to just discuss at dinner parties. People who don’t know what it feels like to go through it. And there they are lamenting how sad it is that it happens so much but then they never try to do a goddamn thing about it!” Bucky breathed with Steve a few times, trying to ease the air in and out instead of the hyperventilation that was his tactic thus far. 

“You’re doing so well, Buck. Keep breathing,” Steve said. He kept his own breathing in time with what he wanted Bucky to do. He couldn’t let himself get too angry and upset about what happened to Bucky. He could do that later. Right now, one of them needed to be able to keep the other steady, safe. He also... already knew. And therefore, had already done his own raging on occasion. Yeah, he knew. He figured it out a while before this. But he wanted to wait for Bucky to come to him with it. He felt like that was fair. It wasn’t his story to disclose, after all. 

“They just... no one tells you what to do after,” Bucky said again, quieter this time. “I didn’t go to the hospital. I didn’t think it would make a difference. I just went home and locked myself in my room. I didn’t tell the police either. I figured they wouldn’t arrest an upstanding high school teacher just because I filed a report. No one listened to me when I did say something, so, why should the police listen either?” He shook his head, trying to reconcile his younger self with the regrets he had now. “It’s just so damn complicated. And there isn’t a step-by-step guide. Just people giving their opinions to survivors who are hardly allowed to do or think or say what they want to about their own experiences.” 

Steve kissed Bucky’s forehead and flicked more tears away. “You’re angry. You have a million reasons to be. And I want to hear them all if it will help you.” He hoped he wasn’t fucking this up. He just wanted to be here for his fiancé. He wanted to give Bucky a safe place to talk, to be sad or angry or anything he needed to be. That’s all he could do for now. 

“I just really want to forget it.” Bucky sighed and tucked into Steve’s chest, finally allowing his body and mind to work itself back down. “I don’t want to forget what happened to me. But I want to forget the details. I know some people totally lose everything, but I kept it all for some reason.” 

Steve squeezed Bucky just a bit tighter. He wished he could make it go away. Or go arrest that teacher himself. Or trade places with Bucky. He didn’t know what was helpful. He also made a silent promise that he was going to call around about getting both of them in for therapy. Just needed to make sure Bucky would be willing to go try it. “Do you think it’s better not to remember it anymore?” 

“For me, yes. I’m sure that’s not what’s best for everyone.” Bucky sniffled and closed his eyes. “I can still feel the pain. I can feel how terrified I was. I can feel the guilt on my walk home. The embarrassment when I told my mom. The fury when she told me I should have fought back and I shouldn’t have been in the school alone that late. But... I had to finish a project. I couldn’t get another bad chemistry grade. I would have failed the class. Then she would have been pissed off at me for that too.” Bucky laughed and looked up at Steve. “Can’t fucking win no matter what you do.” 

Steve shook his head. “You don’t believe that. I know you. Even if you don’t have much hope for yourself today, I know you always have hope for others. And, quite frankly, you’re here and you’re alive, despite your best efforts, and you’re still fighting. I think that’s a win... for whatever that might be worth.” 

Bucky snorted a laugh, lightening up at how deeply he loved Steve. He couldn’t be too sad for too long when he had him around. “I’m not fighting, Steve. I just fucked up trying to kill myself.” 

Steve shrugged, keeping the humor in his words as much as he could. Humor was healing. “Yeah, well, I won’t hold that against you, Baby,” he joked and added, slightly more seriously. “Besides, you just told me a lot about your own trauma that dealt with very complex emotions and thoughts. And you don’t sound like you’re resigned to it. You  _are_ fighting. Please try to be proud of yourself for that at least.” 

\-- 

 

Sarah’s funeral ended quickly, they buried her next to her second son, and then people went home. Steve walked hand-in-hand with his girlfriend back through the cemetery, ready to go home and try to rest. He damn near growled when he saw the unfriendly face of his father waiting by his car. Steve and Sarah both had suffered a lot at his hands. And seeing him today of all days was bringing out any and all rage he had locked away inside. 

“What, Steven? You’re not going to talk to me at all?” Joseph asked, as if it was Steve’s fault they didn’t have a good father-son relationship. As if Steve was the cock-up here. 

“No,  _Joseph_. I’m not going to.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded at his girlfriend to get in the car. She didn’t need to be part of this and Steve didn’t want his dad saying something rude to her too. 

Joseph scoffed and rolled his shoulders back in aggravation. “I think it’s too late. You already are talking,” he pointed out. “I just want to have some time with my son. We just lost your mother and you’re clearly not handling it well.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Steve snapped. “ _We_ didn’t lose her.  _I_ lost her. You were never a good husband, never a good father, never a good man at all. You didn’t lose her. She kicked your sorry ass as far away from us as possible years ago. And you have no right to come here today.” 

“Why don’t I have a right? She was my wife. And without me, you wouldn’t even be here.”  

Steve narrowed his eyes at him and spit out, “Tell that to Connor. He should be here today. But he is not. Because of you.” 

“That was an accident!” Joseph yelled, probably too loudly. “And you know it was an accident. Sarah knew it was an accident too.” 

“Okay, maybe it wasn't on purpose. But that doesn’t make it an accident. It’s negligence. And mom did know that,” Steve said. He wasn’t backing down. 

Joseph took a step closer to Steve. Steve backed away instantaneously. He never wanted to be any closer to his dad than he was right now. “It wasn’t my fault. I was nowhere near your brother. I was outside.” 

Steve just nodded. That pretty much proved his point. “When you’re the only one at home with a four-year-old, and you aren’t watching him all the time, and he ends up dead, I would call that negligence.” 

\-- 

 

“So, do you want to explain why you tried to kill yourself today?” Steve asked. They were back in the bedroom. They were both clean and dressed in pajamas. They were both exhausted but Steve could see the worry and the words ruminating behind Bucky’s eyes. They couldn’t go to sleep until this was settled. 

“I just felt... I worried that I wasn’t enough for you. Or good enough. Or healthy for you,” Bucky said after a long wait. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and refused to look at Steve. “Not because it happened. Not because I think I’m lesser or damaged or anything for being hurt like that. I-” he paused again and shrugged, unsure how to even proceed here. “But because I’m not  _over_ it. You know? It still to this day gets me feeling so horrible. Horrible about myself and life and relationships and other shit. I’ve got all that illogical self-victim-blaming and guilt and disgust sometimes. It’s still there. It boils up. That stuff that I have always known on a realistic level isn’t true, but part of my brain still believes the irrationality anyways. And that makes me worried that I’m not healthy enough. Or being with me isn’t healthy for you. Like I’m a burden or a danger to your mental state and wellbeing. Even if that seems ridiculous. Do you understand?” 

Steve brushed gentle fingers up and down Bucky’s arm. It sent goosebumps across his own body and he didn’t know why. Maybe because he literally almost lost Bucky today. If Bucky had taken something that was actually lethal... he might be gone right now. And Steve couldn’t think about that for even a moment. He needed Bucky and he knew Bucky needed him. They were a family. 

Steve cleared his throat and scooted a little closer to him. “Buck, you know those scars I’ve got on my back and sides?” he asked gently, though he knew full-well that Bucky knew which ones he was referring to. They were naked a lot together and the scars were obvious enough that he wouldn’t have forgotten. “And you remember how I gave you a bullshit excuse about them being from ROTC?” 

Bucky blinked and shook his head. “I, uh, didn’t realize that was a bullshit excuse,” he replied simply. He had been really shocked when he first saw them. He didn’t mind them but he had been concerned for Steve the second he saw them. Maybe Steve had lied because he didn’t want Bucky to worry so much? Because after he told him his ROTC story, Bucky felt a lot better about it. They were just some gnarly accidents from training. Bucky had a scar on his knee from learning to ride a bike. Accidents happened. That wasn’t as scary as the alternatives Bucky had in his mind at first. 

Steve nodded and slipped his shirt off so Bucky could see the scars again. “These would be the work of Joseph Rogers. You know, the bastard father that we do not talk about. There’s a reason we don’t talk about him and this is it.” He breathed in once deeply. “Well, that’s not true. There are several reasons. But this is a big one.” 

There was a long silence between them as Bucky ran his fingers over a particularly bad gash on Steve’s ribs. He really had believed Steve when he said they were just from ROTC. It made sense at the time. Because back then, he didn’t think Steve would have a reason to lie about it. But, damn, did it all make sense now. And now that Bucky was looking at them, they were much too long and deep to simply be an accident. And there were so many too. 

“And, Bucky, Baby, I am not over this either,” Steve continued. “It still gets to me that my father did this and that he was the reason my mom was so unhappy. I mean it took the two of us so long to be able to actually get out from under his thumb. And after we did, she still wasn’t okay. She felt guilty that he hurt me and my brother, like it was in any way her fault. As if she didn’t try everything she could to get him to stop. I think she died still wondering where she went wrong. Even though I told her over and over again that I didn’t blame her in the slightest. And I didn’t blame myself either. It was all him. He made those choices, not us. But that doesn’t mean I'm not still hurt and not ‘over it’ if that’s how you want to call it.” 

Bucky’s eyes filled up with tears again and he pressed his hand to Steve’s chest to ground himself there with his fiancé. “We really should have told each other all this stuff a lot sooner, huh?” 

“Yeah, maybe. But maybe it was supposed to be today, Baby.” Steve shrugged. They couldn’t know for sure. And he didn’t want to spend all his time guessing about what he might have done differently in the past. It wouldn’t get him moving forward, that’s for sure. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and tried to muster up the correct words, the most helpful words, to explain to Bucky what he felt about him. “I could have lost you tonight. No, you didn’t do it right - because you’re a dumbass,” he joked softly, knowing Bucky would be grateful for some normalcy like that. Not making light of it, but not allowing it to control them as if the grim reaper were upset about being cheated a new claim. “But the intention was there. And I don’t know what you might have done if I wasn’t here when you woke up. Would you have tried again with something else? Drank yourself into oblivion?”  

Steve shook his head as he felt several wet tears drip down his cheeks. “Fuck, Baby. I love you. And I need you. And I don’t have some sort of terms and conditions list that says I will love you only if you are a certain way. I’m not just sitting here waiting for you to be ‘over it’ and feel totally happy every single day. I would love for this not to hurt you anymore. That would be wonderful. But I’m not for a second trying use it against you. And I have every faith in you, in us, to be able to help ourselves heal from all this stuff. As long as it may take. Healing isn’t a competition. There’s no deadline, Baby.” 

Bucky was still and quiet. He didn’t quite know what to say. He trusted Steve completely and knew he meant every word. But it would still probably take him some time to actually be able to apply that belief in his life. And he did feel like a dumbass. Steve was joking, but he was right. Of all the times in his life when he felt much worse than this, he didn’t try to kill himself. He thought about it, sure, but he never tried. Now, here he was engaged to an incredible man, living in a good apartment, considering going back to finish school. Then some jackass touches him and then fires him from his job and absolutely everything spirals out of control. It did make sense to him. He could practically track out the events perfectly to show how he got from there to here. 

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, arms wrapped around Steve and head resting on his chest. “I have faith in us too. You might have to help remind me from time to time. But, yes, I can be confident in us. I love you, Steve. I love you more than anything.” He kissed Steve’s cheek, smiling at the beard there, and gently pushed them both down on the bed so they could finally sleep. 

\---

 

Art by DalnimMoonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Please, do not take anything in the story as the proper or correct tactic for helping yourself or others in crisis. Everybody and every situation is different. This is not meant to be a guide or suggestion of any sort. It is purely a work of fiction. It may be therapeutic for some people (and writing things like this can be therapeutic for the author). But it IS NOT anything more that any readers should take to heart besides a story and something to relate to. 
> 
> If you need help, seek out your national or local helplines, please.
> 
> Wikipedia's list of suicide crisis lines [available here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines). (The author has NOT verified any of the lines or double-checked with Wikipedia that they are up to date.)


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